And Solitude, My Only Passion
by oblivion7
Summary: After his Tie-fighter is blasted away from the destroyed Death Star, Vader uses the time to enjoy a rare moment of peace--and to contemplate his shrouded future.


AND SOLITUDE MY ONLY PASSION

Rating: K

Setting: ANH, immediately after the death of the Death Star

Disclaimer: Star Wars was created by and belongs to Lucasfilm; I'm grateful to play with their toys. Apologies if this is similar to other works.

Summary: Chaos is sometimes the best way to bring thoughts into balance…

The tie fighter was still spinning, and Vader's mind with it. Careening off the parade of flotsam from the Death Star battle, he was momentarily dazed at what had happened. If he didn't know better, he'd have sworn it was all part of a smoky primitive dance, some hazy dream that filled the screen with surreal points of light.

His skills as a pilot were not as sharp as they once were, but nonetheless more than adequate to stop the pitch of the ship. Lights from everywhere were screaming for attention, but his primary concerns were the smoldering power cells and steadily draining fuel. Passing his hand over the controls, he calmed his frightened vessel and examined the damage. Nothing that couldn't be repaired in short order, he mused with a silent smile. He'd always been good at fixing things.

Glancing at the forward viewport, he saw one thing he couldn't fix. The remains of the Death Star glittered in the distance like a dying star whose life was being drawn off by anirresistiblesingularity. No ships remained within range of the station's scoria; even the dreadnoughts had withdrawn to a safe distance as they struggled to accept the impossible defeat at the hands of a band of novices and examine the full extent their own losses.

Vader was neither surprised nor disappointed. He'd warned the Gran Moffs more than once about too much dependence on technology. In the right hands at the right time it was useful, but they always refused to factor in the unpredictability of living beings. Now that the rebels knew the Empire had a weakness, it wouldn't be long before they defeated the overgrown giant completely.

These thoughts, of course, would get him killed if the Emperor found him out.

Shutting down life support and the main drive to preserve power, Vader adjusted his respirator to its lowest setting and the internal temperature down by several degrees. Opportunities like this one were rare, and he intended to take full advantage of it. Soon enough the patrols would perform a full sweep to recover any intact vessels, and his duties would begin once again.

The ship rolled lazily to the song of the solar winds, and Vader calmed his thoughts as he reached out ever so carefully with his Force sense to be certain he was truly alone. He felt the panic aboard the ships, their commanders barking orders, the bridge crews shaking with trepidation. He saw, too, that even the Emperor himself was occupied, keeping a strange veil over some thoughts that involved Vader and memories of the past. No matter. Vader was content that whatever his feelings produced for the next few moments, Palpatine would be too busy to notice him.

But to be safe, he wove a delicate neural veil of his own, one that would disintegrate at the first outside touch to warn him of an intrusion.

Tendrils of ice crystal began to edge across his view as the emptiness outside made its way into the heatless cockpit. The smoke began to subside as the panel fires winked out their spent embers. Vader, however, had his vision glued, not to the insanity outside, but to the face of Tarkin drifting in his mind: angular and cruel, snapping orders and pushing him about as if he were little more than a willing subservient beast. Worse, he couldn't get the words of the Princess out of his mind:

"...I should have known that [Tarkin] would be holding Vader's leash..."

Even now it stung to hear someone openly speak what had been on his mind for years: that Palpatine hired--no, loaned--him here and there to whatever incompetent GranMoff, inept governor or persistently whining general demanded Imperial assistance. Though Vader knew he was under the direct command of the Emperor alone, it had long ago grated his nerves to be ordered to take direction from men who were not only blindingly stupid but often ignored the very advice that would help them.

It hadn't always been this way. But as the Empire sought to tighten its grip on its ever expanding territory and increase its authority over the near dead Republic, it had become obvious to Vader that, just as the young Princess had observed, more of the systems were slipping away. He knew it wouldn't be long before Palapatine would lose his grasp on much of what he'd worked so hard to obtain, despite the fearsome power and strength of his Sith apprentice.

Vader wondered about that, wondered too at the Emperor's refusal to continue training him. It had been years since his Master had schooled and tested him, or even tempted him with promises of higher levels of power. He knew there was much more to learn--he was still completely in the dark when it came to many details of Sith and Jedi skills--and his use of the Force was honed only by his own persistent practice. It was after Palpatine discovered his private exercises--and just how far he'd advanced without help--that his being loaned out as a tool became commonplace.

Not that Vader minded staying away from the palace. He'd found the constant conspiracies, plots and double dealing for positions of power and influence to be irritating as well as boring. It seemed that the intrigue and discord had deepened with the appearance of a new and more aggressive contestant for Palpatine's attention. It was obvious that this reptilian prince was a genius at getting the Emperor to listen to him, ahead of many of the seasoned sycophants. Vader, however, was only mildly concerned; such bootlickers would always be around, and Palpatine would use them as long as their schemes kept him amused.

It was, after all, another way to keep his apprentice under control. Or so it seemed.

But inside Vader seethed when he saw the Empire caressing the very corruption it was supposed to prevent. It had taken him many nights of deep thought to finally understand that Palpatine was no more interested in unity among the worlds than much of the old Senate had been.

Something that he'd heard once, a lifetime ago, from a trusted source.

Even more telling was the filament of fear that Vader occasionally sensed when speaking to his Master. It was never more evident than the time Palpatine had asked him about his ability to function almost indefinitely in his suit without recharging. Vader had proudly--but carefully--told the Emperor of his study in old Sith technology, and how he had made a few minor adjustments to align the suit with his own brain and nerve functions. It proved to be a nearly infinite energy source, considering Vader's ever-present restlessness. Palpatine had forgotten about Vader's aptitude for machines; despite the limitation of gloved hands, skilled tinkering was still present in those gifted fingertips. It was then that Vader realized he'd progressed much farther than Palpatine had intended, and that the secrets Vader kept protected in the shadows of his mind were indeed safe from discovery.

It was also then that he felt the first tremulous shudder in the Dark Side.

Shadows of memory quickly came and went, old gray ghosts with sullen whispers. It had been ages since he'd paid attention to the part of him that was long since vanquished, and he wondered why it now suddenly began another attempt to resurface. More gently than ever before, Vader nudged the shadows away, leaving his thoughts to face another new dilemma.

There was something familiar about the pilot that defeated him. Something about the way he handled his X-wing, the reckless abandon with which he flew, the strike and leap away technique that had once been second nature for him a lifetime ago. The Force around that pilot had been unbelievable. Not since the last Jedi's death had he felt anything so strong.

Instinctive. Powerful. Familiar.

Impossible.

Vader had always known that Palpatine obscured a certain amount of knowledge, but he'd assumed that it was because either he wasn't far along enough in training or that the Emperor wanted to be sure to stay a few steps ahead of his apprentice. Vader had never questioned his Master, at least not in the beginning. However, time had a way of tempering any relationship, and Vader more than once wondered just why the Emperor kept him at bay. He'd tasted a glimpse of one of the Emperor's visions, one that told of Vader's defeating him and taking charge of the Empire. But he also recalled another vision, one held fast by all the Jedi he'd killed: that he, Vader, would bring the Force back into balance. He'd seen it in their eyes as they died, he'd heard it in their voices, felt it as they drew their last breath.

He failed to understand it then. But somehow old memories were starting to resurface, and with them pieces from the past were starting to fall into place--with himself and this strange pilot at the center…

The viewport was completed frosted, and his respirator was softly warning him that the temperature was getting too low for continued operation. Deftly removing the control panel, Vader re-wired shield power to life support, diverted weapons energy to the fuel cells and cut the startup power in half to avoid taxing the damaged engines. He then slowly brought the cockpit pressure and temperature back to normal. He felt rather than saw the scrappers making their final sweeps for usable vessels; not that the Empire needed the leftovers, but it would prevent scavengers getting their hands on free equipment to use against Imperial fleets. He would have liked to enjoy the dark peace for a few more moments…just a few. He knew that his return would be to frantic chaos, a demand for explanations and future plans of retaliation. He might even be forced to go back to the palace if the Emperor felt angry enough, and he knew his Dark Master would likely want to blame him for the entire affair.

In which case, his visit would be blissfully brief.

Vader resolved two things. First, find out about this pilot and if his instincts were right. If what he suspected turned out to be true, he would have to carry out his second resolution more frequently, that of enjoying the complete silence of solitude as he increased his private study of the Force.

The former might change the course of his life. The latter might cost him his life.

Powering up his tie-fighter, Vader felt for the first time that he was in complete charge of his destiny. And that feeling was more frightening than any he'd felt before.


End file.
